


Ohh, You Wanna Kiss Me So Bad, Iwa-chan

by feihart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys Kissing, Fluff, High School, Kissing, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feihart/pseuds/feihart
Summary: Hajime can admit to himself, maybe, that the feelings he harbours towards Tooru are more romantic than they are platonic. But as he looks at his friend, who must know this too, a stupid, smug grin stretching the lips he’d just tasted — by accident, sort of — he thinks: But the idiot doesn’t have to be so obnoxious about it.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 21
Kudos: 188





	Ohh, You Wanna Kiss Me So Bad, Iwa-chan

**Author's Note:**

> BIIIIG BIG THANK YOU to Chi and Yen for beta reading this for me, and for helping me make this the softest version it could be. ILYSM!

_It’s cold_. That’s the first thought that crosses Hajime’s mind as he steps outside _._ Although it’s the end of Spring and the weather’s been getting warmer, it’s colder than he thought it would be tonight. He should go back and get his jacket, but he might’ve left it in his locker before practice started. There’s no use in getting it now just to go a few meters to the drinking fountain. He crosses his arms over his chest and quickly makes his way down the path. As Hajime rounds the corner, he thinks _Oikawa’s up to no good_.

He could tell by the way he’d lingered at the edge of the gym, away from the rest of the team, fiddling with one of the nets he’d tasked himself with folding. Everyone else was either picking up stray volleyballs, or _actually_ putting away their practice apparatus, engrossed in a conversation about — well. Hajime hadn’t been listening, too focused on keeping their captain in his periphery. Maybe he should have walked up to him and caught him doing whatever he wasn’t supposed to be doing. But the others were there, so it should have been fine.

That’s what he’d thought.

When he comes back, it’s to a nearly empty gym. The only person left is Tooru, bouncing a volleyball in front of him at the end of the court — _Once, twice_ — then levelling it before him. There’s no net across from him, but there are volleyballs scattered all over the other side of the court.

Tooru isn’t facing him, but Hajime can still feel the intensity of his gaze on his invisible target. This is his foundation. The setup before the serve. The storm he gathers before he strikes.

 _He’s beautiful_ , he thinks, though instinct tells him to raise his hands to protect the back of his head. And then, _Idiot_. They’d just cleaned everything up.

“Oi.”

The ball is already up in the air when Hajime calls for his attention. Tooru doesn’t stop his approach, because he’s probably never known how to. One, two, three steps — then he’s up in the air, his palm meeting the ball with an explosive _bang_.

Tooru launches the ball across the gym at a rather low angle. It bounces when it meets the floor, no one to catch it on the other side. It probably wouldn’t have made it past the net anyway.

Tooru turns on his heel to face Hajime, an ugly grimace on his face.

“Have you been standing there the whole time, like a creep?”

“No.” Hajime returns a grimace of his own, offended at the accusation, even though he _had_ been standing there for a moment, and _had_ been watching him. But not like a creep. He steps into the gym, walking to the other side and standing among the sea of volleyballs. He frowns down at them. “When did everyone leave?”

“Like two minutes ago.” Tooru picks up a new ball from the rack that was supposed to be put away already. He holds it up towards Hajime with one eye closed, his tongue sticking out, as if gauging his aim. “I waited for you.”

It’s stupid, Hajime thinks, for warmth to filter through him when Tooru has waited for him so they could go home together a thousand times before. “I’d say thanks, but you made a mess. Again.”

Tooru lowers his ball and cocks his hips. “That’s not a mess. That’s all a sign of my hard training.”

“I’m going to make you clean it all up.”

Tooru laughs, completely unthreatened. The sound is light, clear in the gym, and Hajime hates himself for liking it so much.

“Iwa-chan,” he says, spinning the ball in his hand. “Want me to toss to you?”

“There’s no net. And I’m tired.”

“Then let me just practice a few jump serves and then we can go.”

Hajime squints his eyes at Tooru, suspicious of him. A few jump serves always leads to Tooru wanting to do more, resistant to taking breaks. Hajime finds himself spoiling him in his practice, entertaining his antics because Tooru always finds a way to make him say yes. How annoying, he thinks, because Tooru didn’t ask, like he’d known Hajime would give in with little protest.

“Five jumps. Then we lock up.”

As expected, Tooru pushes for more, going for a sixth, a seventh, a tenth, until Hajime starts throwing volleyballs at Tooru when he grows sick of waiting for him.

Finally, they start putting everything away again. They bicker the whole time, as they usually do, more scathing words from Hajime and unbothered laughter from Tooru.

“It’s so late, Shittykawa.” He closes the locker door. “What if I had shit to do?”

“Iwa-chan. It’s not my fault you chose to stick around with me when you could have gone home earlier.”

Hajime glares at him. Tooru tilts his head. There’s a cheeky grin spreading across his lips, like he’s known longer than Hajime that when it comes to him, he’ll always indulge him. Hajime takes a threatening step towards him, and Tooru folds in on himself. Thrusting his arms out in front of him protectively, he shouts, “Wait!” This reaction pleases Hajime more than he thinks it should. “Don’t hurt me.”

For all of the times he’s dreamed of it, Hajime would never _actually_ hurt Tooru. And he won’t now. He swats the stupid boy’s arms away. The dumbass is still in his uniform, Hajime notes while grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

“You…” If he ignores eighty percent of what comes out of Tooru’s mouth, he thinks, then maybe Tooru really is as tolerable as he thinks he is. He lets go of his shirt, and finishes with, “Are so annoying,”

Tooru’s smirking again. He leans against the lockers, crossing his arms over his chest smugly as Hajime turns away from him to shove his gym shoes in his bag. “Ohhh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“Maybe.” The word makes its way out of his mouth before he can catch it.

Judging from the shocked look on Tooru’s face, it wasn’t the response he was expecting at all. Tooru looks at him appraisingly, then thoughtfully says, “I mean, I could, even if it is with your face.”

God. The longer he’s in Tooru’s presence, the more he hates him (he doesn’t). He sounds completely serious, but Hajime can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Can’t tell if Tooru’s lips would give easily should Hajime press him against the lockers and kiss him deeply.

“Never mind.” Hajime aggressively unzips his bag, and the laugh Tooru releases makes his heart flutter. Or maybe it’s the sudden hand on his arm that does it. Or the way Tooru pulls him in close, closer, until their mouths are pressed together.

 _They’re soft_ , he thinks; then _Idiot._

Hajime pulls away first. He’s surprised - and very relieved - to find that the look on Tooru’s face isn’t outrage, but rather curiosity. His eyes gleam with something else — something knowing — like he had seen this coming from far away, and had only been waiting.

Tooru folds his lips nervously, and Hajime’s eyes are drawn to his mouth. He says, “Iwa-chan?” But this time it’s faint, heard because Hajime is this close to him. So close, he can feel his breath warm against his lips.

It’s the heat and Tooru’s quiet call that makes Hajime realize what he’d done. He quickly releases Tooru’s shirt, then takes a step back. Without another word, he turns back to his duffle bag, stares into it unseeing for a moment, then roots around for a non-sweat drenched shirt and pulls it over his head now, having been distracted from changing by the shape of Tooru’s stupid, smug mouth.

“I’ll wait outside,” he says briskly, feeling the flush burn its way all the way up to his ears. He needs air and maybe a moment to bash his head against the locker room wall in private.

“Iwa-chan.” This time it’s teasing, sing-songy as usual. When Hajime dares to look at Tooru, that same crooked, smug grin is back on his face. “It’s fine. I’m ready to go.”

They make their way into the chilly night and off of school grounds, taking the same path they usually do to walk home. Though Tooru doesn’t seem affected by the kiss at all, Hajime still expected it to be awkward. But it’s the same as always. Tooru brushes his arm against Hajime’s, and Hajime pretends like he doesn’t brush back.

Tooru hums to the tune of the Sailor Moon theme song, occasionally inserting the words he remembers. It makes Hajime smile secretly as he looks ahead, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“You know,” Tooru starts, prompting Hajime to glance at him. “You’re not a bad kisser.”

Hajime thinks that Tooru has a very specific way of making his hackles, striking when he least expects it, or when he’s at his most relaxed.

“Shut the fuck up. I hate you so much.”

Tooru throws his head back to laugh, and Hajime looks away. God. _God_ , he’s so pretty, it’s irritating.

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

“What?”

“Are you gonna kiss me again?”

Hajime squints up at the streetlamp coming up. The wind cuts through his jacket, and he shivers, but Hajime also feels warm from the embarrassment. They pass the streetlamp and he releases a resigned breath. Whatever. Nothing is more incriminating than actually kissing him, so he might as well be honest.

“Maybe.”

Hajime glances at him. He tries not to match Tooru’s wide smile when he responds, “Good _._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you thought — are they in love? Should they hold hands? Did Iwaizumi really want to kiss him that badly? Drop a like, iwaoi police!


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